The former White House intern has found truth and understanding – two qualities she was never shown at the time
It’s 2002 and I am in TK Maxx in Blackpool, trying to get away from the Blairite zeal of the Labour party conference, when I bump into a minister who is similarly unenamoured. “Bill Clinton is here,” he tells me. “They don’t know which woman to sit next to him at the fundraising dinner. Can’t be young. Or attractive. Because of … well, you know.” We do know. There was not a sexual encounter between Clinton and Monica Lewinsky (whom he “did not have sexual relations with”) that we had not pored over years earlier.
Later that evening, in swooshed the known liar. But no one seemed to mind. I saw cynical hacks behave like daft groupies. Clinton schmoozed everyone, with the famous grabbing your hand and then moving up your elbow trick that Joe Klein had chronicled. He spoke off the cuff on global politics for an hour or so. Brilliant, obviously. There was no doubting his immense charm. Later that night, Clinton was seen wandering around in search of a Big Mac with a mate he had brought along for the ride: Kevin Spacey. Hilarious! Alastair Campbell was said to be there too, hanging on the coat-tails of the Hollywood glamour. Oh, the pulling power! Though in 2018 we might call Clinton and Spacey predators. Well, I would.